


Rain

by the_magical_garden



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Shance Secret Santa 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 19:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17167898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_magical_garden/pseuds/the_magical_garden
Summary: It hurts when Lance dreams of rain, but Shiro has the perfect remedy.





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Shance Secret Santa 2018! This is my gift for @chrysonoe on tumblr <3  
> Merry Christmas!
> 
> Word Count: 2,148  
> No Warnings Apply

Lance dreamed of rain.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for his eyes to close in his dorm on the IGF-Atlas, and to open to his old bedroom, rain streaming down the glass window. In fact, he observed that the dream repeated too many times for comfort.

A lot of memories came with the recurring dream. The smell of rain against dry dirt, sweet and clear amongst the billowing grey of the clouds in the sky. The gentle patter of raindrops rolling down glass. Scrambling to grab a light raincoat and slip outside. The warm air venting through the hallways, accented with the smell of cooking. He always felt warm and safe in the dream. And in a way, that was the worst part.

Because he’d wake up back in the Atlas. There was no large window by his bed. No comfortable mattress and oversized covers. And, most of all, no rain.  
The weight of his responsibilities sat on his chest from the moment his eyes opened, as if he was aware of the stakes every single waking hour. And the stakes, he knew, were quite high.

The fight with the robeast took a lot out of the Voltron team, and not just energy wise. Being drained of quintessence was no walk in the park. Pidge had retreated to her dorm for what seemed like a week, only coming out once at lunch to stockpile on snacks, with tousled caramel hair and bags under hazel eyes. She’d only give one word answers to questions, with an occasional glare or mumble. Her family visited a lot, which Lance figured helped a lot - they hadn’t been together in years. Understanding her inflated introversion, he and Shiro helped out by transferring her gaming set to her room. She’d only given a slight smile, and a quiet thanks, which, Lance figured, was an improvement from before.

Allura recovered by putting herself to work. She’d always gotten comfort out of responsibility, which Lance figured made her such a good Princess and leader. She worked tirelessly around the ship, helping to build and repair Altean-inspired tech, and taking over at the bridge of the Atlas whenever Shiro had gotten too tired to operate.

Keith was even less talkative, and more grim than before. As good a leader as he could be, and as encouraging as he tried to be despite his demeanor, Lance knew recovery would be hardest on him. He was somehow paler than before, the scar on his face further contrasted. His hair was so messy, Allura insisted on pulling it back into a ponytail to tidy him up. While Keith didn’t say anything about it, Lance knew he appreciated the gesture.

Hunk, being the loving guy he was, insisted on playing games with Pidge and bringing her peanut butter cookies. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance would all do joint game nights every once in a while, enjoying the delightful earth snacks that they hadn’t been able to enjoy in what seemed like years. Hunk got comfort from cooking, and lifting other people up with it. When morale was low, Hunk was just the remedy. Or, his food, as he insisted. His family was also a godsend. The Garett family were cooking fiends, whipping up enough food to feed an entire population. Once, Hunk’s mom brought Lance some garlic knots. Lance couldn’t quite remember, but he was pretty sure he cried.

Lance himself spent as much time as possible with his family, hugging his parents too many times to count and worrying about his sisters enough that Veronica threatened, affectionately, to throw him from the bridge of the Atlas. Which, in an odd way, gave Lance comfort that not much had changed. The one unbearable part of his sister, Rachel, was that she claimed to be older than him. Which was completely unfair, as Lance had been catapulted forward in time. Her argument, in his eyes, was invalid.

However, despite his recovery, he’d found it harder and harder to sleep. He’d always dream of rain. Every time he did, he’d wake up earlier, as if wanting to shake off his own pain. Lance had always known nostalgia, and even called it a friend, but remembering rain was so much worse. It was a twisted nostalgia, that had his heart in a vice grip.

And so, he stopped being able to sleep altogether.

He sighed, opening his eyes once again to the bland wall of the Atlas. He’d never actually fallen asleep, but he’d tried to. He was so tired that day, that he’d managed to put his pizza in the dishwasher instead of the microwave. Which was a new low, even for him. He remembered Allura’s and Hunk’s confused and worried looks, snapping him out of his stuper with questions.

But even when he was too tired to function, he couldn’t fall asleep. Even though he needed it, he dreaded dreaming of rain.

So, he sat up, stretching his aching arms above his body. He gave a groan as his sore muscles protested at the movement, aching still from the quintessence drain. He stood in the dark, reaching out his hand to trace the wall to a light switch. As warm light filled box room, he blinked the cloudy figures from his eyes, letting out a breath and lumbering over to the door.

He’d had yet to wander the ship while everyone else was sleeping, so it was like a little adventure. As soon as the door opened, and he turned down the hallway, he gave a slight wince. It was kind of eerie, but peaceful as well. Platinum walls were lined with orange accents, the floor detailed stone. Small windows lined the hall, moonlight softly spilling in and illuminated the grays a light blue. The hallway continued until it ended a distance away, a black square amongst intersections with other hallways. Lance wasn’t too concerned, though. He knew exactly where he was going.

He walked mindlessly among the halls, at peace as he observed the ship in a new, peaceful light. Without the bustle of garrison crews and cadets, the ship seemed like a palace, mysterious and extensive. Lance quite liked the change of tone. He wandered from hall to hall, memory guiding him to the bridge.

The bridge had the largest window in the entire ship. And Lance wanted nothing more than to look at the sky, and imagine he was looking at it from his bedroom window.

What he didn’t expect though, was that someone would be seated on the floor in front of the window. The moonlight illuminated the figure’s white hair, their shadow stretching across the length of the bridge. Their arm separated from their body, a soft blue glow emanating from the shoulder.

Shiro.

Right. Shiro.

While Shiro hadn’t had his quintessence drained with Voltron, he’d worked just as hard, or harder than anyone. He never stopped helping out. Even when he wan’t giving orders on the bridge and directing repairs to the Atlas, he’d be on the ground, helping refugee families who had come in during the Galra’s occupation of Earth. Despite the determination in his steel grey eyes, or the openness when helping others, it was clear to Lance that he was draining quickly. He’d never truly recovered from… well, dying.

Which Lance understood, since he had also died, that one time.

God, what an odd thought.

While Allura had healed both of them, Lance had been affected by his death for a very long time. He’d used to have a constant mental fog, or phantom pains. He’d shock awake at night, as if struck by the malfunctioning shield again. The emotional issues that came with death were…well, insurmountable. Lance was still weird about it sometimes. He had gotten a break.

Shiro hadn’t.

Which was what made Lance so worried when he spotted Shiro’s silvery floof, awake and aware on the bridge of the Atlas.

“Shiro?” Lance asked, voice raspy and quiet with exaustion.

Shiro visibly tensed, head turning slowly to peer at Lance, standing aimlessly in the doorway. Upon recognition, Shiro relaxed, giving a slight, yet warm smile. “Oh, Lance. It’s you. What are you doing up?”

Lance shrugged and smiled in return, eyelids feeling a little heavy. “Couldn’t sleep. Is it the same for you?”

Shiro just hummed and nodded, before amiably patting the ground next to him.

Heart warming, Lance padded to Shiro’s side, folding down to the floor with crossed legs. They both just gazed through the window, admiring the sky. It was a haunting, dark indigo, faraway stars sparkling in the night. In a weird train of thought, Lance realized that they had probably visited some of the planets and stars they were seeing. Plateaus and plains eclipsed the dark sky with a warm, caramel brown, tumbleweeds and bushes nothing by silhouettes in the night.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asked, sounding concerned.

Lance shrugged, yawning. “I’m okay. I really wanna sleep, but it’s hard. But - what about you? You’ve had a crazy week.”

Shiro chuckled, almost a little bitterly. “We’ve had a crazy week. But, I’m feeling better than expected, given the circumstances.” “You need break,” Lance informed him softly. “You’ve been working nonstop.”

Shiro sighed. “I wish I could, but I can only give so much work to Allura. She’s just as drained as I am.”

“You deserve rest, Takashi.”

Lance could feel Shiro start a bit at the name, but turned to see an almost grateful look. “I guess you’re right, Lance. I guess it’s just hard to not… help, you know? I have responsibilities.”

“You are also human,” Lance remarked. “You need sleep.”

“You can pry overworking from my cold, dead hands.”

Lance snorted, turning back to the sky.

They sat in silence, steeping in just being with one another. Lance felt more balanced, peace thrumming through him like a subtle heartbeat. Shiro’s calm swirled around him like a light breeze, soft with the silence of the bridge.

Lance couldn’t help but to turn to Shiro, soaking in his moonlit features. Titanium eyes were soft in the light, almost hopeful as he peered up as a full moon. The scar across his nose caught a glare of light, his face graced by a smile. His hair was truly metallic, a bright, dazzling white. Lance could almost feel his heart clench with affection for the man. His entire body was warm.

Shiro, as if feeling his look, returned Lance’s gaze, eyes glowing. The look on his face was enough to make Lance melt. It was charged with an emotion Lance couldn’t quite interpret. For a brief second, he wondered what Shiro saw when he looked at him. Did Lance’s vibrant blue eyes shine to him, the way Shiro’s did to Lance?

Looking away, he shivered at the thought, soft and vibrant emotions wandering serenely throughout his body.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Shiro shift. “Are you cold?” His voice was soft and concerned.

Lance met his gaze again, smile sheepish. “It’s not that bad.” On the contrary, he felt quite warm.

“Come here,” Shiro requested gently, an affectionate glint in his eyes. He opened his human arm to him, welcoming.

Lance didn’t hesitate, scooting over and snuggling into Shiro’s side. He wove his right arm around Shiro’s waist, leaning a weary head against his shoulder. A strong arm wrapped around his side, pulling him in. The weight of Shiro’s forehead touched against Lance’s scalp. Lance felt like he was surrounded by a warm blanket, and he relaxed, letting out the breath that had been stuck in his lungs. Shiro let out a deep hum and rocked a bit, his voice reverberating through Lance’s body.

Together, they gazed up at the stars, the sky swirling with dark navy and deep plums. The moon had rose higher in the sky, full and bright. Lance realized just how light he felt next to Shiro. Everything seemed light and content, in contrast to the darkness of the night. He felt at peace.

He let out a yawn, eyelids drifting.

“Do you need to go to bed?” Shiro’s voice asked, almost regretfully.

“I don’t wanna move,” Lance whined, snuggling further into Shiro’s side in protest.

The older man chuckled affectionately, using both arms to envelope Lance in warmth. “Okay. We can stay here a little longer.”

“That sounds nice,” Lance’s voice was quiet, slurred with drowsiness..

Unable to help himself, Lance could feel himself slipping, eyes closing under the light of the sky. He felt lips against his forehead, and he smiled contentedly.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to a vibrant blue sky, laced with sunset lit, billowing clouds. And it was to watermelon plateaus, glowing with the rising sun. It was to Shiro, asleep at his shoulder, expression peaceful and loving in sleep.

And, for the first time in a while, Lance awoke smiling.


End file.
